Bend and Break
by Obsidian And Cobalt
Summary: This world is unforgiving at best. Is comforting the broken worth anything?


**This is pretty much proof that I have a serious shipping problem. I don't know why, but I can just totally get behind this pairing. Meaning that I saw two people around the same age and slashed them shamelessly. Anyway, I'm too cheap to afford the game so I've only seen let's plays up to where Rebecca's water breaks. Don't give me spoilers, guys ;_;**

Clementine felt that she had made the wrong decision.

Go after Jane and make sure she wasn't trying to sneak away from the group, stick with Bonnie and Mike to scout out the museum, or the option that she had chosen.

Scratch that, she didn't feel that staying behind to try and coax Sarah out of her misery was particularly wrong, just not the most apt use of the valuable lack of time they had before they had a screaming woman in labour on their hands.

Walkers would be coming from all directions at the inevitable racket, and instead of trying to find a suitable and stable building for Rebecca to give birth in she had opted for staying behind. But she couldn't help it, in all honesty.

Sheltered and oblivious to the situation of the dead walking until thrown into the midst of it; Sarah reminded Clementine of herself at the beginning. Too filled with disbelief to take a swing or a shot at a walker, convinced that they were still somewhat human, the walkers were just too feverish and disorientated to understand that they were hurting people. It was just a new illness, nothing that wouldn't wear off with some time.

It wasn't just seeing her father die right in front of her that had knocked Sarah so far into her disorientated state - it was seeing the walkers collapse onto him at the scent of fresh blood when the gunshot tore through is throat. They bit and ripped at his flesh, and all the effort that he had put into protecting his daughter from the harsh truth of what the world had become was in vain.

If they were all together when it happened; Clementine knew her father and her mother would have done the same, it was a horrific situation even for an adult. For a child it was outright nightmarish, something bred of an all-night binge of soda and cheetos with cheesy horror movies on at the small hours, something that would be erased easily by waking up in a warm bed with a bad sweat and loving parents coming to investigate the panicked yelps in the night.

But that wasn't the case here. Her parents were dead, still dragging around Savannah for all she knew, as she had seen when trying to sneak back to safety with Lee. That made her wince internally. The thought of Lee made her feel guilty. If she hadn't taken off with the stupid hope that her parents were fine without saying a word, then Lee would have been okay. He didn't deserve to die like that, suffering because of the whim that following a random man on her walkie-talkie was a good idea.

But looking at the girl slumped against a broken-down brick wall, something inside her felt irritably sympathetic, it was like looking in a mirror of years gone by. The hesitance, the confusion, the betrayal of life selling her out so badly.

Kenny was keeping an eye on Rebecca; the latter residing in the tent to rest while the others scouted out a new and safe residence, the former still too furious to talk to her properly after putting Sarita out of her misery.

Tired from the fighting, rescuing Luke and Sarah from the motor home, striving to be an adult in this situation, Clementine dropped down beside the newly-orphaned girl. She wondered a little about what had happened to Sarah's mother.

Vaguely, Clementine felt bad for slapping her to get her out of the motor home before the walkers caught them. She felt bad for the harsh words as well, demanding to get herself together, that being kids wasn't an option any more. It was true but still felt like terrible news to deliverer.

"Hey," she eased in cautiously. She didn't get a response. Night was falling fast, and the full moon reflected off the spider-webbed cracks in Sarah's glasses. "I'm sorry for hitting you, but you have to understand – you can't mourn stuff now."

At least that earned some acknowledgement. Something between a shrug and a blink.

It hurt, oddly. Before she found Christa and Omid, she was sure that it was over for her. It was all a haze of denial, tears, aching arms from firing the bullet that finished Lee before he turned, staggering silently through the back alleys of Savannah coated in walker guts. It had turned into a game of checking off the reasons that she was sure to be eaten alive, of why she wouldn't survive alone. But somehow they had reunited and kept her going; even if now Omid was finished, buried by a random kid and his girlfriend in a shallow grave when an unknown survivor shot him in a truck-stuck bathroom. Who knew what had happened to Christa, all she could hope for was that she escaped the bandits that had jumped them in the woods all those weeks ago.

This was what Sarah reminded her of. The pent-up misery, the shock of loss and how casually it was treated now. No courtesy or redundant apologies any more, only knowing looks and brush offs. It was almost a right of passage now to lose someone dear to you in these circumstances. Another pang of guilt stuck her gut at telling the screaming girl she had pinkie-swore as a friend to shut up as her father got devoured by walkers. It was a reflex now – Clementine was one of those people who treated death as a regular occurrence. It was necessary but disgusting none the less.

"I saw my parents as walkers," she blurted before she could think. Hugging her knees to her chest, she hung her head until the brim of her baseball cap hit her thighs. "They tried to grab me. I was sort of tempted to let them. It'd been like one last hug."

That earned a glance. It spoke disturbing volumes to her, like it was saying `I wanted to hug my dad while he was dying.'

Despite the obvious flinching away when Rebecca reached for a hug earlier, maternal instincts seemingly already kicking in, Clementine slumped against the bookish girl and held onto her forearm tightly. The aforementioned arm tried to tug away. "Stop it," it was quiet and she held on tighter. Surprisingly, that was enough to calm the attempts to break away. It's not fair." It was hard for Clementine to decide who she was talking to any more – herself or Sarah. "But you have to keep going, or end up as a walker."

"Daddy was better than that," the words were almost inaudible. "Getting..." she trailed off. "..Like that, he shouldn't have..." Dark hair brushed Clementine's cheek when Sarah shook her head weakly in regret.

"Carver's people didn't care who they hit,"she murmured half-heartedly, too exhausted to try harder. "They were just aiming into a crowd. It wasn't fair that it was Carlos, but you can't stay like this." Dragging herself back, Clementine forced herself to stare into those now gloomy brown eyes that clearly didn't understand the hostility that was rife in this new world. "It's either kill or be killed. If you can't understand that then you're as good as gone."

Sarah went limp in her grip. "I don't...I mean I knew that stuff had gone wrong..." the words hitched for a second as if tears were impending. "But I didn't think that those people – those things – were that messed up," a hand shot to Clementine's shoulder, squeezing to the degree that it was almost painful. "I thought it would be normal again, that's what daddy said, that it was just for a while!"

All of a sudden, she was wrapped up in a desperate hug that was almost suffocating. It was the first embrace that matched how frantic she felt inside.

She held on without thinking, arms tight around the taller girl's neck. The stench of unwashed body and well-worn clothes met her nose, the usual people scent of the past few years. What was unusual was the dry grazing of lips brushing against hers. It was impossible to tell if it was accidental or not. Whatever it was actually managed to summon heat to her face. More so when she sought it out again. Clementine promptly ruled it as a purpose movement with the willing response she got the second time. Wet, anxious, as inexperienced as she was.

The sorry excuse for a kiss ended shortly after, but the hug dragged on.

It was a pathetic attempt at grounding themselves, she knew that Sarah knew.

**I won't lie to y'all, I'm unbelievably wasted right now. If this makes no sense, blame the rum, because I tried ;_; Anyhow, feels good to get this out of my system and hopefully end my random infatuation with these two. No regrets, just shipping. I also broke my writers-block streak!  
-Obsidian**


End file.
